Portals Plotbunny I: Dumpster Diving
by BurnsLikeIce
Summary: When Hawkeye and his Druid friend go for a late-night stroll through the city, the last thing they expect to find is an injured man in a dumpster. (WoW/Avengers/Daredevil x-over)


**Notes:** This short little tale is a plotbunny my co-conspirator, Sarabi, ambushed me with. It's set during the time of my (currently unfinished) WoW/Avengers crossover fic "Portals" but isn't an official part of that tale. Consider it along the lines of a deleted scene. Portals PlotBunnies may crop up from time to time as I work on the 'real' stories of the series. They are silly little one-shot type things that can mostly stand alone, but make more sense if you've read the primary parent fic. The Druid, Harvist, is a character belonging to my co-conspirator, Sarabi.  
Clint and Matt belong to Marvel.  
The dumpster belongs to New York City (I guess...it could be privately owned, but we'll just consider it city property for now).

* * *

Harvist prowled down the alleyway, her large paws making only the faintest whisper of sound as they connected with the asphalt. The Druid was in her Feral form, which resembled a large white lion with bull horns. Riding on her back was a male human. The black-clad man had short, dirty-blond hair, a trim but muscular build, and a quiver and bow slung over his shoulder. They made a strange pair, not that anyone could see them in the darkness. The human suddenly sat straighter and pointed towards a nearby dumpster.

"That's the dumpster I ended up in last time! Actually, I think it was that same one the time before, too."

The Druid narrowed her blue eyes and wrinkled her nose in disgust. She sat down, causing the archer on her back to suddenly slide off. The man gave a yelp as his posterior hit asphalt. Clint leveled a glare at his companion. She ignored him as her feline form shifted, growing taller. In seconds, the horned lion had transformed into an eight-foot white-furred figure with a long tail, hooves, and a cow-like head. The blue eyes twinkled as Harvist looked down at the still-sitting human.

"That 'dumpster' is for trash, right? Not surprising someone would toss you into one."

"Hey!"

Clint leveled an indignant glare at Harvist as he regained his feet and dusted himself off. As he adjusted his bow and quiver, he glanced towards the dumpster. The lid was open, as usual. The unpleasant smell wafting from the refuse was also normal. What wasn't normal was the sight of a human hand sticking up over the rim. Clint blinked, his mind slow the process what he was seeing. A finger twitched. The archer jumped into action, climbing up to hang over the edge of the dumpster for a better view. The Druid joined him and they both peered into the dumpster's dark interior.

Amid the rancid bits of refuse there lay a prone figure dressed in black. The skin-tight shirt sported several holes from which injuries were clearly visible, even in the dim light. Blood oozed from cuts and puncture wounds scattered across the toned torso. The man's face was obscured by a strange black mask which, oddly enough, lacked eyeholes. The Druid moved quickly, placing her hands over the stranger's chest and chanting softly as a soft green glow formed. The tendrils of light crept across the injured man's body, sealing wounds and stopping the bloodflow. In minutes, the wounds were healed. Harvist reached down and gently cradled the man in her arms, lifting him out of the dumpster. Clint knelt beside them as she laid the stranger on the ground.

"I think he's waking up. You'd better stand back. Most people don't react well to seeing a minotaur leaning over them."

With a sigh, Harvist backed away to stand in the shadows. The stranger twitched, groaned, and rolled onto his side before sitting up. He appeared to be disoriented for a moment before seemingly snapping back into awareness. He looked towards the archer and spoke.

"Who are you?"

"I was just about to ask you the same thing. Not every day I find a guy in my dumpster."

The stranger's mouth twitched, almost as if he was fighting a smile. He addressed Clint again.

"You live around here?"

The archer shook his head.

"Nah, just passing by."

Clint stood up and offered a hand to the man in the black outfit. After a slight hesitation, the stranger took it. Once back on his feet the man fell into a deceptively relaxed stance.

"If you don't live here, then how is it 'your' dumpster?"

"Usually I'm the one who's dumped in it. I'd rather not have to share."

The stranger regarded Clint with an unreadable expression under his black mask.

"You never did answer my question. What's your name?"

"Clint. How about you? Or shall I just call you Dread Pirate Roberts?"

The man in black didn't respond. He looked around the alley with an air of mild confusion. His gaze came to rest on the shadows where Harvist stood. Instead of screaming, he merely tilted his head to the side, the tightening of his jaw muscles the only sign of his having seen the Tauren.

"Who are you?"

Clint was slightly impressed. Harvist's pale fur was barely visible in the darkness, and yet the guy with a black cloth tied over his eyes knew she was there. There was something strange about the man, aside from his outfit. The Druid stepped forward from her hiding spot. The stranger's gaze rose upwards as she drew closer. The Tauren towered over all humans, and the black-clad man was no exception.

"My name is Harvist. Don't be afraid."

Clint snorted. The stranger hadn't run away screaming, but his body was poised and ready to move. It was doubtful the guy would be taking their word that they meant no harm. The man's voice was heavy with mistrust when he next spoke.

"You…WHAT are you? That's not a costume. And you…why do you have a bow and arrows?"

"Would you believe I'm auditioning for Robin Hood?"

Harvist sighed as the stranger turned towards Clint with an unimpressed air. She liked the archer, but there were times he reminded her strongly of the goofballs she called friends on her homeworld. Exasperating as he was, it was also probably one reason she liked him.

"Okay, fine. I'm Hawkeye and she's an alien cow-lady. Now, we still don't know who you are. 'Burglar' is high on the list, given the mask and gloves and finding you almost-dead in my dumpster. Of course, you could also be a very unlucky cosplayer who got mugged on his way to a sci-fi convention. What do you think, Harvist?"

The Druid facepalmed as soon as Clint referred to her as a "cow-lady". Humans. She took a deep breath and studied the stranger. His mouth parted as if to speak, but no words came out. The man seemed stunned into silence. It was a good minute before he regained his voice.

"So I was pulled out of a dumpster by an Avenger and an alien. I assume the alien is why I'm not bleeding to death?"

"I healed you, yes. You were in bad shape when we found you."

The stranger seemed to consider the Druid's words. From what was visible of his face, it seemed he was having an internal debate. After a few moments the man appeared to come to a decision. With a twitch of his lips, the stranger finally introduced himself.

"Call me Mike."

Clint and Harvist both realized the man was lying. No self-respecting masked stranger gave away their real name, after all. Whether they'd let him go free or turn him over to the police was yet to be determined. Some crazy masked dudes were harmless, but most tended to be of the criminal variety.

"Thanks for the medical magic, but I need to be getting home. It's pretty late, after all, and these streets can be dangerous. Don't want to run into any criminal elements."

Eyebrows were raised as "Mike" smirked ironically. Clint grinned as Harvist shook her head. Apparently men who got thrown into dumpsters all shared the same personality type.

"Speaking of 'criminal elements', what did you do to get tossed out with the trash? C'mon, you can be honest with us."

The man claiming the name of "Mike" seemed to consider his answer carefully.

"I might have angered a kidnapper or two."

Harvist was the one to snort this time.

"From the look of you, it had to have been a small army of kidnappers. Did you manage to rescue their victim before they put you in the dumpster?"

"Yes. The girls got away while I took care of their captors. The police should have cleaned up by now."

Clint was tapping away on his cellphone. He seemed to find something he liked because he nodded as he put the phone away.

"Story's good. I just checked and a report was filed saying some girls were rescued by a man in a black mask. So…guess this makes you the new vigilante superhero of the area."

All three figures relaxed a little as the story was confirmed and accepted. The masked "Mike" gave a small but genuine smile as he answered Clint.

"Something like that."

The archer reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card. He held it out to the still-smirking masked man.

"Here's my card. Call me next time you need to be pulled out of my dumpster."

"Mike" looked at the offered item but made no attempt to accept it. Instead, he reached into a pocket and pulled out a disposable cellphone.

"Why don't you just put your number in here? The card won't really do me much good."

Clint took the phone and started inputting his number. He was slightly confused, though. Handing the phone back, the archer couldn't help but ask what he was thinking.

"Why not take the card? Are you allergic to paper or something?"

"Nope. I'm blind."

"Mike" put his phone in his pocket before leaping for the fire escape. Clint and Harvist sported matching looks of total shock as their new friend disappeared into the night.


End file.
